


Brand New Sound

by ladyxdaydream



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, loose Coffeeshop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxdaydream/pseuds/ladyxdaydream
Summary: Group projects always, always sucked. There were no exceptions.Except... maybe this time.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Mitarashi Anko & Umino Iruka
Comments: 27
Kudos: 210





	Brand New Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [narcoticnaomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcoticnaomi/gifts).



Iruka clacked his stack of note cards against the desk’s surface, straightening them into a neat pile. He knew he wouldn’t use them but he made them anyway—it was a comfort thing. 

He raised his hand, volunteering to go first. He was probably one of the only students in the room who didn’t dread public speaking. That didn’t mean he hadn’t pushed off this class until his third year though. Speech was boring as hell but required to graduate; the main reason he decided to go first was so he could work on something else for the remainder of the period.

Their professor called on him, and he made his way to the front of the room to give his introductory speech. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Good morning,” he said, placing his note cards on the podium. “My name’s Iruka Umino. I’m a junior here at Konoha University. I’m studying to become a teacher because apparently I like to be overworked and underpaid,” he laughed, though he was the only one who did.

“That was a joke…” he said slowly, tucking his long hair behind his ear. “But I do think teachers are undervalued. I believe a good teacher or mentor can change the course of your life, and as corny as it sounds, kids are the future. If I can shape them positively in any way, I’d like to try.”

He shifted his stance, resting one hand on the cool metal of the podium. 

“I have two jobs outside of class—I’m a teacher’s aide at The Hidden Leaf Elementary School, and work as a barista during my free afternoons and evenings. I’ve been working at the same coffeehouse since I was freshmen; I’m unhealthily addicted to caffeine now but at least the pay is decent,” he said, mentally thinking about the thermos of black coffee back at his desk. 

“Outside of school and work I like to create art,” he continued, since he couldn’t admit to defacing public property outright. “Go to the movies. I like to swim; I was on the swim team in high school. Um, go for a hike or a run. You know, normal things,” he shrugged. “I’m not super interesting,” he laughed, scratching at the edge of his scar. “And, yeah. I think that’s about it.” 

He turned to the professor, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Iruka,” she said, as he walked to his desk in the back. “Who’d like to go next?”

Iruka slid into his chair, zoning out whichever one of his peers had started to speak, and pulled out his American Sign Language textbook. There was a mostly deaf child in the class he aided for, and when Iruka found out he immediately signed up for an ASL class at the University. The semester had just started, and he definitely didn’t need the extra workload, but it was too important to him not to. There wasn’t a single staff member at the elementary school who knew ASL, including the boy’s teacher Shizune. 

According to Shizune, the best they could do for Naruto was sit him in the front of the class and let him lip read—that’s how he’d been going through school so far, though his grades were poor. Naruto had barely passed into third grade. His foster parents didn’t have the money to send him to a deaf school, and The Hidden Leaf _maybe_ would have hired an interpreter, but Naruto didn’t know sign language; no one had ever taught him. Iruka was going to change that. 

He passed the remainder of class this way: studying the alphabet, forming the letters with his hand beneath his desk. When he glanced up at the clock only ten minutes remained, so he shoved his book into his satchel and waited for it to end. 

“We have time for one more today. Who will it be?” his professor asked. 

Nobody volunteered. 

People shifted around in their chairs, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Alright then. I guess I’ll choose,” she said, scanning the room. “Mr. Hatake, how about you?”

Iruka watched as the guy responded by lifting up from his slouch in his chair. His hair was silver-gray—wild and messy—like he couldn’t be bothered to run a brush through it after rolling out of bed. Iruka had never seen him before this class. 

Unlike Iruka, he had no notecards. He simply tucked his hands into the pockets of his black sweatpants, which cuffed at the ankle above his nikes. 

He let out a long, suffering sigh before he spoke.

“My name is Kakashi Hatake. I’m a senior; my last year at Konoha University, thank god. I’m studying veterinary science. My likes and dislikes…. I don’t really feel like telling you that. As for my future dreams, I never really thought about it,” he said with a small shake of his head. “And for my hobbies… well, I have lots of them.” 

Iruka’s jaw dropped in amusement, dumbfounded, while several other people had openly laughed. 

There was a pause, and when it stretched on their professor spoke up.

“You still have 2 minutes left, Mr. Hatake.”

“That’s all I prepared.”

“It sounds like you didn’t prepare. Why don’t you tell us about all those hobbies you have, or if that’s off limits, maybe a little about your family and where you grew up.”

Kakashi sighed.

“Uh, I read a lot. I like dogs: petting them, walking them, talking to them. They’re better company than people. As for my family… my parents are dead, have been since I was a kid. I was raised by three of their friends in a mock commune: one writes pornographic novels for a living, the other is a gambler and a drunk, and the third is—or was—a psychologist, who ironically was clinically insane; they’re in jail for a variety of serious crimes including but not limited to unethical experimentation with their patients.” 

“That’s enough,” their professor snapped, annoyed. “If you’re going to fabricate your life, I’d rather you sit back down.” 

Kakashi said nothing, shrugging his shoulders, and Iruka watched him walk back to his seat. As wild as all of that sounded, Iruka didn’t think he was lying—he knew what it was like to have an unconventional childhood—and the fact that their professor had called Kakashi out in front of the entire class really pissed him off. 

“Read chapter one of the textbook and answer the questions at the end for Wednesday,” their professor said loudly, some students already half way out the door.

Iruka got up and walked over to where Kakashi was still rifling in his backpack. 

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on the desk. 

Kakashi looked at his hand first, at the silver ring around his thumb, and then up into Iruka’s face with his one exposed eye, the other one hidden beneath a black patch.

“I believe you,” was all Iruka said, before he turned away and hustled off to his next class.

Kakashi stared at his back with a tight feeling in his chest. 

  
~

  
At the end of the second week of classes, their next speech was assigned. It was to be done in pairs—a persuasive speech—where they had to “invent” something and pitch it to a team of “investors,” which just meant the rest of the class. It didn’t have to be logical or follow the rules of reality; as long as they had a compelling argument, they could come up with anything. 

Iruka blew out a breath. He thought the idea was straight up stupid, but there was nothing he could do about it. He hated group projects, mostly because he ended up doing all the work. 

Their professor gave them the last 25 minutes to pick a partner and start brainstorming. Iruka glanced about the room, feeling a very specific type of anxiety—the kind you feel in middle school gym class when teams are being picked and you’re the last one standing. 

He made eye contact with the only other brown student in the room, before catching sight of Kakashi’s silver hair in the desk in front of her. He got up, bypassed the girl with a sympathetic smile, and stopped at the head of Kakashi’s desk.

“Kakashi, right?” Iruka asked, though he knew the answer.

“Yep.”

“You wanna work together?”

Kakashi’s eye slowly dragged up Iruka’s chest before meeting his stare; it made Iruka blush unexpectedly. 

“Sure. Why not?” he said lazily, a stark contrast to the intensity of his gaze. 

“Uh, great,” Iruka swallowed, sitting down in the empty desk beside him. “Got any brilliant ideas?” 

“Nothing will ever beat the snuggie,” Kakashi said seriously. 

_“What,”_ Iruka laughed, taken aback. “The snuggie is just like… a bathrobe turned backwards.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by a low chuckle from Kakashi.

“A backwards bathrobe that made _millions_ … which I happily contributed to.”

“You own one?” Iruka asked in disbelief. 

“Two,” Kakashi smiled with a playful raise of his brow. “You know they make snuggie tails now? But only for kids,” he said with a click of his tongue. “Age discrimination.” 

“How do you even know that?”

“I still get their emails. Just think Iruka, you could be a mermaid. Or a penguin. Or even a dolphin…”

Iruka stared at him, thoroughly unimpressed and reluctantly charmed. 

“You’re definitely not going to be the one who thinks of the invention.”

“Alright, _genius._ Let’s hear what you’ve got,” Kakashi said, watching as Iruka ran his fingers over his scalp, combing his dark hair into a deep part to the left. There was a a single streak of bleached blonde in front of his right ear—he tucked it away from his face, and something about that burst of color made Kakashi’s heart flutter.

Iruka leaned back in his chair in thought. A moment later he popped up to a sit again, a light bulb illuminating. 

“You know how a photo never looks as good as what you’re actually seeing?” Iruka asked.

Kakashi tilted his head in interest; photography was a big hobby of his, not to mention his academic minor.

“Like when you experience an amazing sunset or landscape or something funny… and wish you could record it but don’t have anything on you in the moment?”

Kakashi blinked at him, waiting.

“An eye camera! It captures things exactly how they are. The pitch would include what I’ve already said as well as: after a short surgery—where a device is inserted into your brain or something—,” Iruka said, waving his hand. “You’re ready to go. With a handheld remote you can choose when to start and finish recording, snap a picture, etcetera—we can figure out the details later.”

Kakashi frowned. He’d witnessed too many things in his life he’d rather forget.

“Hm. What if you record something terrible by accident?”

“There could be some sort of deletion system,” Iruka suggested.

“Seems too risky,” Kakashi said, because _makes me uncomfortable_ would be too personal.

“Fine,” Iruka huffed as everyone started to stand up around him, signifying the end of the class. “I guess—I guess we should exchange numbers or something so we can work on this.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Kakashi agreed, holding out his phone for Iruka to insert his number.

He did, and handed it back. 

“Let me know if you think of anything.”

“Will do,” Kakashi said, getting up and leaving; the alternative was waiting for Iruka to pack up, and the thought made him strangely nervous. 

  
~

  
Iruka picked up the stack of homework sitting on Shizune’s desk that had been turned in earlier this morning, and put it in his messenger bag as the day came to an end. He spent the entirety of his Tuesdays at the elementary school. On Thursdays he came in after lunch when his own classes at University were over. 

He grabbed his denim jacket off a hook in the corner, startling when he turned around.

“Oh, Sasuke. What can I do for you?”

“Teach me sign language,” was all he said, short and to the point.

Iruka’s surprised expression shifted into a soft smile. 

“So you can talk to Naruto?”

 _“No,”_ he blushed. “I just—,” he stared at the floor. “—want to learn.”

Whenever he was working, Iruka pulled Naruto aside for one hour a day to teach him, amounting to two hours a week. Iruka wished it were more, especially since Naruto loved it, but regrettably it was all he could do with his full schedule. Iruka could tell through their one-on-one sessions that Naruto was a painfully lonely child, so the idea of teaching another student how to sign overjoyed him. 

“I’ll speak with Ms. Shizune,” Iruka said. “And see what I can do.” 

Sasuke left at that, and Iruka followed shortly after him. 

When he exited the building, he took his phone out of his pocket for the first time since lunch; a barrage of text messages were waiting for him—five in total—from a number he didn’t recognize.

“Who the heck…?” Iruka trailed off as he swiped open his phone.

  
_hover-brella_

_an umbrella attached to a drone_

_it flies above your head_

_hands free_

_it’s kakashi, by the way. not spam. ;)_

  
“Stupid,” Iruka muttered with a laugh.

 _but you’d need to drive the drone?_ he typed, _so your hands would just be holding the controller instead of the handle of the umbrella…_ he sent before shoving his phone back in his pocket, his ride having arrived. 

“At your service, my liege,” Anko said through the open window, her voice imitating a British accent horribly. She was going through a Game of Thrones phase, more specifically a Daenerys phase—a _valar morghulis_ sticker was slapped on the back bumper of her truck—which essentially meant Iruka was too, considering they lived together.

He pulled open the door and hopped inside. 

“How were the brats?” she asked.

“Good,” Iruka replied. “Naruto’s really taken to sign language; we’ve moved on to basic conversation. Sasuke told me he wants to learn.”

“Which one’s that again?”

“The dark haired angsty one.”

“Ah, yes. My kin.”

Iruka rolled his eyes with a laugh.

“Honestly, I’m thinking about asking Shizune if I can just make it part of the curriculum and teach the entire class, her included.”

Iruka’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

_you’re no fun_

_but i’m also right???_ iruka sent.

 _besides the point,_ came his immediate reply. _  
_

“What’s got you smiling like an idiot?” Anko asked.

“What? Nothing,” Iruka said, straightening his mouth into a line, unaware he’d been smiling in the first place. 

Anko tilted her chin to her chest, peering at him over her aviators. 

“For someone who excels at being deceitful, that was pathetic. You didn’t even try.”

“It’s been a long day,” Iruka sighed. “And it’s not even close to being over.”

“See, that’s more like it. Deflecting by changing the subject to how exhausted you are so I’ll leave you alone. But I have no manners so that ain’t happenin’ pal. Who is it?” 

Iruka bit his lip, this thumb twitching to unlock his phone as the screen lit up with new messages.

“It’s nobody, really,” he said, reluctantly pocketing his phone to prove his point, which felt unreasonably heavy against his side. “Just some guy in my speech class I have to work on a project with. He’s cute, I guess. Not exactly my type.”

“Iruka, I think you’re the only person I’ve met who doesn’t _have_ a type.” Anko said, taking her hands off the wheel to air quote the word _type._ “That’s what makes you a pansexual king.”

“Please never call me that again.”

“That only makes me want to use it more,” she grinned. “What do you think about picking up Chipotle for dinner? I just started my period and salty, salty tortilla chips are callin’ my name.” 

“Let’s go,” Iruka said, turning up the volume as Truth Hurts came on the radio.

They both sang along immediately, bumping in their seats.

~

  
Iruka was lazily dipping a chip into a plastic tub of guacamole, feeling beyond full but unable to stop. He was slouched low on the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, crumbs all over his chest. Anko’s legs were strewn across his thighs, a heating pad clutched to her belly, season four of Game of Thrones playing on the television. 

“It’s your boyfriend,” Anko announced as Oberyn came on the screen. 

Iruka lifted his eyes off his phone from where he’d been texting Kakashi back and forth for the past hour and a half, neither of them coming up with an invention that wasn’t dumb as hell. The only thing Iruka came up with so far was The Bottomless Pit—something that allowed you to eat whatever you want, however _much_ you want, with no consequences. But when they tried to hash out the details, it just got gross.

“They should have hired me for that scene,” Iruka said. “They wouldn’t’ve had to pay me. Oberyn ordering me to take off my clothes would’ve been enough.”

Anko cackled, hitting him with the snake plush she’d been hugging.

“What?” Iruka laughed, shielding his head from a second blow. “As if an orgy with him and Ellia Sand wouldn’t be hot as hell.”

“I’d never cheat on Daenerys.”

“Boring,” Iruka tsked as his phone rang. 

Kakashi was calling him…?

“Hello?”

“I got it,” Kakashi said when he picked up. “And I swear if you shit on this idea too, I might actually cry.” 

Iruka snorted out a laugh. 

“...Mutter. A device that vocalizes your dog’s thoughts so you can talk to each other. We can hyphenate it like Mutt-er, get it? Mutt as in dog and mutter as in speaking, like ‘you muttered something.’”

“That’s... not bad, actually.”

“Not bad?!” Kakashi cried, offended at not being immediately heralded as a genius. 

“I don’t hate it,” Iruka said, biting his lip as he smiled; he thought it was pretty clever truthfully, but for some reason he liked giving Kakashi a hard time on purpose... 

... which meant he was definitely flirting. Shit. 

“Maa, and here I was thinking you’d be impressed.” 

“It’s gonna take a little more than that,” Iruka said before he could stop himself. 

“Hm. Noted,” Kakashi replied in a tone that made Iruka second guess everything. “So whats the verdict?” 

“Uh,” Iruka stalled, his mind swirling with possibilities that had nothing to do with their project anymore. “Let’s use it.” 

“I _knew_ it was good,” Kakashi boasted. “You wanna get together? To—to work on it?”

“What, like right now?” Iruka asked.

“Yeah? Unless you’re busy.”

Iruka wasn’t, and although he was tired, this was the only evening he had free this week so he should probably use it.

After agreeing on a place to meet up, Iruka packed his satchel and crossed it over his chest, grabbing his duffle bag full of spray paint. He had an idea he’d itching to get out for weeks.

He picked up Anko’s car keys off the counter. 

“You going to be late?” Anko asked, eyeing the duffle bag, knowing exactly what it contained.

“Yeah, so don’t wait up,” Iruka said, lovingly tugging at her short purple ponytail.

“Be careful,” she called as he pulled open the door. _“For the night is dark and full of terrors!”_

  
~

  
They had written their speech in under an hour. It was by far the dumbest thing Iruka had ever heard, but he’d also never laughed more in his life. When the time came to actually give their speech to the class, Kakashi’s ability to keep a straight face while _really_ laying it on thick to sell Mutter, was somehow hilarious. Iruka had to bite his cheek the whole time, their professor docking points from his individual evaluation because of it. 

It had been several days since then and Iruka missed their texting, finally admitting to himself that he _may_ be housing a real crush, so it made his eyes light up when Kakashi stepped up to the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Kakashi said.

“Is it? I’m sure it has nothing to do with me wearing my uniform shirt to class today,” Iruka teased, not believing his ruse. “I’ve worked here two years and never seen you come in before.”

“I decided to pick up a new habit,” Kakashi shrugged.

He didn’t have an excuse to see Iruka outside of class anymore, so naturally he decided to stalk his workplace instead of asking him to hang out like a normal person.

“Bad news for your heart,” Iruka said with a cheeky smile. 

For a moment Kakashi forgot what they were talking about.

“We’ll see about that.”

Gai cleared his throat, cutting through the flirtatious tension.

“Oh, uh,” Kakashi stepped aside. “Gai, this is Iruka—“

 _“THE_ Iruka?!” Gai exclaimed. “I knew something was up when you asked me to accompany you, Kakashi! I’m so glad I—,”

“—I’ll have a coffee,” Kakashi cut in, his cheeks heating with a blush.

Iruka darted his eyes between the two men, amused.

“Technically we don’t serve drip coffee anymore, but I’ll make an exception,” Iruka smiled. “Anything for you, Gai?”

“The Green Beast, please!”

Iruka typed it into the electronic register before swiveling the screen to face them.

“$10.95.”

Kakashi tapped the 20% tip and inserted the chip of his card into the slot.

“Coming right up,” Iruka said, handing him the receipt, before twirling around to make their drinks. 

“He is very attractive, Kakashi,” Gai leaned in to tell him as they stepped aside. “With warm eyes and a kind smile.”

Kakashi shot him a look that said _don’t._ More often than not, they tended to have the same taste in men.

“I’m just saying!” Gal laughed boisterously. “I see the appeal.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure that’s all you’re _seeing.”_

Kakashi’s last one night stand had turned into Gai’s casual boyfriend, until they found out the dude was only hanging around in hopes of a threesome, which they both quickly objected to but not before Gai had waxed poetic about how beautiful of a man Kakashi was; stating he wouldn’t risk “spoiling the dynamic of their blossoming friendship for one night of passionate lovemaking.” Kakashi tried not to think too much about what that could imply. 

“Plain coffee and one smoothie,” Iruka called out, placing their orders on the counter.

They stepped forward to grab them.

“Since I have a feeling this is your first time ordering coffee…” Iruka pushed the cardboard cup towards Kakashi. “… I made it light,” he flirted. 

Speaking of firsts, this was Iruka’s first time seeing Kakashi in actual clothing—he wore nothing but baggy sweats to class—and _yeah,_ he looked good in dark jeans and a snug sweater, so sue him.

“I’ve had coffee plenty of times,” Kakashi lied, ripping open a white packet and pouring it into his cup, giving it a stir.

“Mhm,” Iruka hummed, watching the motion. “You do know that’s salt, right?”

“…Yes,” Kakashi said, taking a sip. 

Gai sucked on his smoothie, biting on the straw to hold back his laugh.

Iruka stared at Kakashi, waiting for a reaction but he got none.

“Your poker face is impressive,” Iruka smirked, taking the cup and throwing it in the trash. 

“Why would you have salt on the counter?” Kakashi asked after a very unpleasant swallow. “Fuck, that is disgusting,” he coughed into his arm.

“We have a food menu,” Iruka laughed, pointing at it. “I’ll make you something else. Go sit; I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

Kakashi blinked back tears, his mouth down-turned in distaste as his stomach gurgled angrily.

 _“Kakashi,”_ Gai whispered feverishly as they turned towards the tables. “That was very uncool.”

“Iruka has an _undercut,”_ Kakashi emphasized, pulling out a chair and dropping in it. “I’ve never seen him with his hair up before; he always wears it down for class. I panicked.”

Kakashi didn’t think anything got better than Iruka was his hair down—it was the first thing he noticed about him—but knowing that _that_ was hiding beneath it all, was ridiculously sexy. 

He tried to appear nonchalant as Iruka approached them with a large turquoise mug.

“I made you a mate latte; it’s yerba mate with milk. Still has a high caffeine content but not as potent as coffee. You seem like the tea type,” Iruka winked. “By the way, the brown packets are usually the sugar,” he said, tossing a couple onto the table before walking away. 

Kakashi looked down at his drink—the face of a dog drawn into the foam—and then up at Gai with watery eyes.

“Gai. I love him.”

“I know,” Gai said emotionally, grasping Kakashi’s forearm. “I know.”

  
~

  
Iruka balanced Kakashi’s order on his palm—a plate of warm hummus topped with deeply roasted eggplant, walnuts, fresh herbs, and wedges of grilled pita. 

Kakashi had taken to visiting Iruka at work since it was one of the only places he could see him outside of class—Iruka’s schedule didn’t allow for much more. Shizune had talked to the school board about his request to teach sign language to the students, and they enthusiastically approved it. So much so, that they asked if he’d be willing to teach the _entire school staff_ once a week after school was let out. Iruka agreed, because of course he did, whittling down the little sleep he got from _survivable_ to _practically nonexistent._

Seeing Kakashi always brightened his day, though.

“This is one of my fav…” Iruka trailed off as he placed the plate on the table, catching sight of Kakashi’s laptop screen, “…orite things we make,” he said, his mouth gone dry, unable to process what he was seeing. 

Iruka’s own work stared back at him, particularly the one he had just finished beneath the bridge in Suna Park—the two sets of hands playing cat’s cradle with the words _grief_ and _peace_ tattooed on the wrists.

“You, um, you like street art?” he tried to ask casually, his palms sweating. 

“Oh,” Kakashi said, his eye flitting to the screen as he scratched at his neck. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Why was Kakashi blushing? That was curious.

“I, uh, for my photography final, I sorta convinced my professor to let me do it on this local artist. He was hesitant because apparently this guy is considered a menace to the community,” Kakashi laughed, jabbing his thumb towards his laptop, _towards Iruka’s art._ “But I argued my case.”

“Which—” Iruka swallowed, his words getting caught in his throat. “—Which is what?”

“That the word artist or art has become too narrow. I mean, this guy—or person—has created some of the most thought provoking work I’ve seen. It’s not just ‘spray painted graffiti’—it’s not lesser because it’s done on abandoned buildings or public spaces instead of a canvas.”

“This mural,” Kakashi continued, looking at it with stars in his eye. “is brilliant. Highlighting how healing isn’t linear; it’s a constant tug of war, a game between grief and peace. Some days you think you’re over it, and then you’re hit with a bad day and it feels like you’re starting all over again. And the kid, tangled up in the center of the webbed cradle… I’d bet money this piece has to do with trauma created by abandonment.”

Iruka felt his world spin; he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss Kakashi senseless or run the hell away from him. He felt completely and utterly exposed—Kakashi saw him; saw _everything_ Iruka had poured into that piece.

He rubbed at his arms, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Wow. Nerd, much?” Iruka teased, a pathetic cover up for the nervous panic roiling around inside him.

“Shit,” Kakashi laughed, blushing again. “I sound…. totally weird or obsessed or something.” 

It was definitely fucking weird, but not for the reason Kakashi thought.

“No, I—I think it’s cute,” Iruka said, forcing himself to smile. It was pretty adorable actually, once Iruka got over the fact that Kakashi had literally just _stripped him bare and looked straight into his goddamn soul._

“It’s just—their work speaks to me on a level that’s almost familiar?” Kakashi rambled on because he couldn’t help himself. “Like maybe we’ve experienced similar things in life. I don’t know. I wish I could talk to the artist, but no one knows their name. They don’t even tag their art aside from this little red swirl.”

Kakashi hovered his finger above the mark on the screen.

Oh _god._

  
How was Iruka supposed to handle this? He couldn’t just come out and say, _haha—you’re talking to him right now. hey?_

“Uh, Iruka,” Kotetsu hissed in a whisper, appearing at his side. “Can you stop flirting? We kinda need help at the counter.”

Iruka turned around to see a line of five people impatiently waiting.

“Fuck I—,” 

“—Go,” Kakashi chuckled. “I need a minute to, uh, recover my dignity anyway.”

“We’ll talk later.”

"I'd rather we just drop it..."

"Not happening!" Iruka smiled over his shoulder, swiftly walking back to attend the crowded bar. 

~

“Excuse me, _what?!”_ Anko gaped at Iruka. “You’re telling me that the guy you’ve been flirting with is already in love with your alter-ego? Hooo, boy! Why does everything interesting always happen to you?" she pouted. "So what’d you do?!”

“I—I told him that my roommate knew him…. and could maybe land him a meeting.”

“Pfffff,” Anko laughed. “You’re terrible! Starting off with a lie never ends well, you know.”

“It’s not a lie! You _do_ know me… and _can_ land him a meeting. All you have to do is text him.”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know…”

“Of course you do. You never come to me without a plan already meticulously made.”

“… you could just give me your phone and I’ll text him myself?”

Anko braced her hands on her wide hips in thought.

“Buy me a new vibrator and it’s a deal. Mine doesn’t hold the charge anymore; it cut out at _the_ most inopportune time last night—,”

“—Fine.” Iruka said, not wanting to hear the rest of that story.

She held out her phone to him, but pulled it back when he reached for it.

“And not a cheap one. I want the Hitachi.”

“That’s like a hundred bucks Anko!”

“Small price to pay if he turns out to be your soulmate.”

Iruka snatched the phone from her hand and flicked her off.

 _“LoOove yooooou,”_ she sang as he left the room.

  
~

  
Kakashi’s boots crunched on small pebbles as he walked alongside the abandoned railway. The area was entirely secluded; if he got jumped in a place like this, there would be no one to hear his cries for help. 

He thumbed at the switchblade in his back pocket instinctively, his senses on high alert. It’s not that he didn’t trust Iruka’s roommate and her connection, but shit happens. Shit _had_ happened, and he wore a permanent scar through his eye as proof, half of his vision stolen forever.

Better safe than sorry he thought, stepping around a carelessly discarded syringe. 

The empty train station loomed before him; the large arched windows were all busted into black holes, looking like open mouths with jagged glass teeth. Vines crept up the old brick, and several of the cement pillars holding up the roof over the tracks were already covered in graffiti. It eased the tension in his chest a little—the place certainly looked like a street artist’s dream. 

Kakashi hopped his butt up onto the concrete platform, swinging his legs around to come up to stand. The message had told him to go inside and head towards the back of the building. Kakashi glanced at the crumbling doorway and started to second guess everything. Maybe this was an elaborate prank? After all, why would this anonymous artist want to reveal themselves to someone they’d never met—didn’t that defeat the whole point of their anonymity? Who was Kakashi to think he was so special? To be granted the privilege? 

A loud rattle reached his ears, and although it was a brand new sound to him, he instantly knew what it was. Kakashi’s heart leapt to his throat as the hiss of spray paint filled the air, deafening the faint chatter of birds he’d heard a moment before. 

He took a hard swallow and rounded the corner. The light from the setting sun filtered down in slants through the decaying wood ceiling. Patches of green plants and wildflowers pushed up through cracks in the cement floor. And there, at the end of the long cavern, was the enigma Kakashi spent _years_ admiring, completely oblivious to his presence.

Kakashi watched in stunned silence for a moment, trying to get his heartbeat under control as color effortlessly flowed from the artist’s hand onto the brick. Whoever this was, they had sort of become one of Kakashi’s heroes. People always said meeting your heroes was never a good idea—bound to be disappointing—because it brought them down to a human level. 

But that was precisely what attracted Kakashi to this artist in the first place—the sheer, raw, _humanness._ The way they tackled hard emotions and vulnerability, baring everything through their work for others to see. It was honest and transformative, and Kakashi spent more nights than he could ever count wandering the streets when he couldn’t sleep, hoping to catch a mural he’d never seen before it was painted over. Sometimes he did, and sometimes he’d sit in front of ones he already knew and found new meaning in them.

Kakashi took a deep breath and walked forward, trying to scuff his feet a few times when he got closer so as not to take them by surprise. As he closed the distance between them—watching the artist move—his skin tingled with a sense of familiarity, like he’d shared space with this person before. 

He observed their back, shrouded in all black with the hood of their sweatshirt pulled over their head. When the hiss of the spray can subsided, Kakashi spoke.

“H-hey,” he said tentatively. “I’m, uh, my name’s Kakashi. Anko’s friend.”

That was a gross exaggeration but seeing as she was their connecting link, he didn’t know what else to say. 

They froze, before eventually placing the can on the ground and turning around.

Their entire face was obscured by the painter’s mask—two large filters protruding near the cheeks—except for the eyes, which bore into Kakashi, knocking the breath from his lungs. He had felt that stare before but…. but _where?_

They lifted their hands to pull down their hood and Kakashi’s gut twisted—a bun pulled tight, a stripe of bleached blonde, a shaved undercut.

Next the mask came off, and Kakashi could. not. _breathe._

“Uh, surprise?” Iruka laughed nervously, twitchy like a rabbit, looking like he was ready to bolt. 

Kakashi’s head spun with the same word on repeat:

_impossible impossible impossible_

“I’m—I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner?” Iruka stuttered, scrambling to fill the silence. “I mean, I don’t tell _anyone._ Nobody knows except for Anko, and I didn’t know you were—,”

“Iruka,” Kakashi cut in, his voice shaky, distantly aware of his feet moving. “I’m going to kiss you so stop me if you don’t want it.”

The bulky mask slipped from Iruka’s fingers and clunked on the ground, replaced by the front of Kakashi’s sweatshirt as he yanked him the rest of the way forward, their mouths colliding.

They stayed pressed together, their bodies coiled with tension. As their lips softened, so did they, kissing once, twice, three times, before Kakashi clutched the sides of Iruka’s hood, dropping his forehead into his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you just _stood there_ and listened while I acted like a complete fan boy. I’m gonna die of embarrassment now, bye.”

Iruka tried to look at him but Kakashi only buried his face further, feeling his ears burn.

“At least I know how you really feel about me,” Iruka teased.”Usually it takes months to get that kind of honesty."

Kakashi groaned, mumbling something into Iruka’s neck.

“What was that?” Iruka asked, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. He pulled back, and Kakashi finally freed his face.

“I said, no you don’t. You know how I feel about you as an artist. But—,” Kakashi looked down at his feet, rubbing at the back of his neck. He sighed, and then looked Iruka straight in the eye because, fuck it. “I already had a _mega_ -crush on you, and now… finding out about _this,”_ Kakashi swept his hand out towards the half-finished mural on the wall.

“You’re basically in love with me,” Iruka joked with a shrug. “I know.”

 _“Agghh,”_ Kakashi cupped his hands over his face as his cheeks flamed again, completely mortified. 

“Come on,” Iruka laughed, placing a hand in the crook of his elbow, dragging his arm away from his face. “I’ll show you how I work.”

“I don’t know if I can handle that,” Kakashi said honestly. He really didn’t, considering he was already lightheaded as Iruka led him to the wall by the hand.

Iruka picked up a can of lavender spray paint and gave it a hard shake, the loud rattle echoing around them. 

He uncapped it, looked at Kakashi, and _winked_ , the brat.

“You are _so_ hot,” Kakashi said as if it pained him (it did), accepting the fact that his face was going to stay a permanent shade of pink for the unforeseeable future. 

Iruka stepped forward and kissed him, slipping in tongue this time. Kakashi gasped, pleasure rolling down his spine as he willed his knees not to buckle. 

“Did you bring your camera?” Iruka asked when they parted.

Kakashi licked his lips, dazed.

“Yes.”

“I only have one rule: don’t use any photos of me without the mask for your final, or for anything public really; my scar is obviously very recognizable. The more ambiguous the better. But _privately…”_ Iruka purred, “…is a different story. You can take however many you want, of whatever you want.”

Iruka’s suggestive tone carved a pit into Kakashi’s gut. 

Kakashi swung his backpack around, unzipping it to pull out his camera at the same time Iruka had shrugged out of his sweatshirt, revealing a loose olive green crop top floating above the brown belt looped through his tight, black jeans. He let his hair down, mussing it up before tucking the blonde side behind his ear, a large speckled feather dangling from the lobe.

Kakashi brought the camera to his good eye and clicked, mesmerized, unable to believe this was his life.

Iruka grinned at him—flirty and playful—before securing the mask over his face. He gave the can one final, rattling shake, and Kakashi watched as magic spilled from his fingers. 

**Author's Note:**

> massive shout-out to gloomier, who came up with the name "Mutt-er" hahahah ilu
> 
> i have to admit, i was really nervous to write another college au so soon, but I think it came out alright!
> 
> This has the potential to be expanded (I reaaaaally wanna elaborate more on Naruto T-T) so if this universe is something you enjoyed, you might wanna hit the subscribe button to this story ;D 
> 
> anyway, I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3SJAs7dEvL3HDggMZL41Ge) for this fic. it's comprised of songs that I think either Iruka would listen to while doin' his art, songs that might be playing in the coffee shop, and a few songs I just listened to while writing. give it a listen, if ya want!
> 
> hope you like it, narcoticnaomi :D
> 
> you can find me [on tumblr](https://ladyxxdaydream.tumblr.com/).
> 
> (yes, iruka tags his art with the uzumaki crest/a symbol from Uzushiogakure. is there a thread there? or is it pointless? hmmmmmmMMM!!~)


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